


Somehow You Were the One

by Truetomorrow



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Although it works out, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence def did not know about it, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Massages, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Percival Graves Makes Questionable Decisions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Return of slightly-clueless-but-catches-on-quick Percival, Smitten Credence Barebone, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Top Credence Barebone, Topping from the Bottom, Voyeurism, auditory voyeurism, but it works out, pretty clear lack of understanding of the male body, queenie meddles, that's not a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truetomorrow/pseuds/Truetomorrow
Summary: This is the way Percival's resolve crumbles—not with a bang, but with a whimper.Sequel to Just a Touch and a Thought (and i was gone), the events leading up to, during, and after, all from Percival's POV. [or: ask, and ye shall receive ;D]





	Somehow You Were the One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts), [graves_expectations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graves_expectations/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just a Touch and a Thought (and i was gone)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686285) by [Truetomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truetomorrow/pseuds/Truetomorrow). 



> Dedicated to everyone who liked the first, but in particular to Soz (bottom!graves for you, bb) & Nix (who leaves comments that KILL and asked for more on Graves' voyeurism—hope this is good!). 
> 
> Title from a song (You) by, you guessed it. dodie.

            The first time started out as an accident.

            After months of basic magical training and discussions with Queenie and healers about how to deal with guilt and years of repression, Credence had seemed to be doing better. The obscurus had been under control, at the very least, and overall Credence was happier and healthier than he had probably ever been.

            Still, on the second night after Credence had arrived to live with him, Percival isn’t surprised to hear noises of distress coming from the living room where Credence had decided to stay. Slipping away from the small desk in his room where he has been working late as silently as possible, Percival makes his way to the door but stops with his hand upon the handle when he heard a cut-off moan. There is something about the quality of it, the way it sounded out in the quiet of the apartment at night that held Percival back.

            That didn't sound like a pained or distressed noise.

            Biting his lip with uncharacteristic indecision, Percival slowly moves to the wall of his room that abutted the living room and murmurs a spell, leaning his head closer to the hard surface.

            He waits with bated breath until he is rewarded with a soft sigh, and the sound of a body shifting against sheets in a way that is too purposeful to be in sleep.

            The boy is touching himself.

            Eyes wide, Percival knows he should end the spell; he had determined the boy was in no pain, there is no reason _not_ to end it. Instead, he ends up biting the hand he had raised—fully intending to cancel the spell and head to bed—when a whimper drifts through the connection… and Percival can just _see_ Credence in his imagination, head tipped back, lips parted when the bottom lip escaped the teeth biting down as he tries to hold back the sounds determined to pour out.

            Leaning back towards the wall, Percival listens more carefully to try to determine whether Credence is stroking himself beneath the sheets or out in the open. Whether his sleep pants had been left on or removed.

            Barely biting back a groan, Percival leans his forehead against the wall.

            Not that it matters, he reminds himself. It can’t matter. He shouldn't be listening to this. Credence has no idea Percival could hear him, he normally casts a silencing spell on his room, and hadn’t thought to mention that he hasn’t been setting it two-ways, just in case Credence needs him; he feels dirty just standing here, listening, still torn with indecision even though there _are_ no choices. There is only one appropriate thing to do, and he has already failed to do it _twice_ —his thoughts are interrupted with another whimper through the wall, and Percival wraps his arms around himself to try to keep himself from reaching down to attend to his own erection.

            That, he is sure, _would_ be going too far. Not that what he is doing at the moment was much better, but at least Percival doesn’t feel quite as much an active participant in the depravity.

            He just happens to be up and leaning against a wall he had charmed to be able to hear through, while his own room remains silenced. Listening to Credence—his friend, the boy he should be watching out for not listening in on—as he pleasures himself where he thought no one would hear him.

            It is a fight to keep from banging his head against the wall in frustration. Even with the spell amplifying him, the sounds Credence made are all but silent, although nearly constant now.

            He can adjust himself, surely. That doesn’t count as crossing any lines. Well, any more lines than he has already.

            It isn't his fault that as he moves his hand over the bulge against his trousers Credence lets out another broken moan. Percival clenches his teeth as his hand twitches, wrapping around the outline of his cock before he raises it again swiftly. He lets it hover for a moment as he considers.

            What is he still doing in his work clothes, anyway? It would only make sense to remove those... With a wave of that hand, he is suddenly naked in the chill air of his room, as his hand continues on its current trajectory to skim over his cock.

            With a scowl, Percival wraps his hand around it.

            Who is he kidding? Even if he hadn't heard Credence's cry and now been standing listening to him masturbate, Percival would still be touching himself in his own bed to thoughts of the boy.

            Keeping his strokes slow and steady, Percival focuses most of his attention on what he can hear from the other room. Credence's movements are speeding up, and Percival unconsciously matches them as he presses his ear closer to the wall, eyes clamped shut to watch the imaginary Credence arch and stroke himself, while he can _hear_ the sounds of pleasure coming from the other man.

            His lips would probably be red and swollen with how tightly he has been biting them to keep the noises back. His eyes would be shut against the pleasure. Maybe imagining someone else being the one to touch him.

            Percival’s fist tightens against his cock as he imagines being the one to stroke Credence, to watch his face as he falls apart. From the sounds he is making just on his own, Percival wonders if Credence would beg.

            Swiping his thumb over the slick head of his cock, Percival hisses as he listens to Credence let out one last whine before all he can hear is soft panting from the other room, and the sounds of his hand on his own cock. Percival follows soon after, listening to Credence’s breathing settle, remembering the noises he had just been making.

            He pants against the wall, riding the high of orgasm, still playing Credence’s moans in his head.

            With a jerk, Percival comes back to himself and stares in shock at the wall, taking a step back as he ends the sound amplifying spell and casts a quick _scourgify_ over himself and the floor.

            He had lost his head in the heat of the moment, he decides as he climbs into bed. It was wrong, but as long as he makes sure he doesn’t do it again, Credence need never know.

            It takes a long time for him to fall asleep that night.

———

            The second time, he doesn't even pretend he isn't listening for it. It's been two days since he first listened in on Credence, and he woke up exhausted this morning because he had stayed up far too late working again, stopping every few minutes to listen intently for sounds from the other room. But nothing had come.

            So neither had he.

            Now, he is not _pacing_ his room– but it's a near thing. He's in his pajamas, trying to read a book in bed, light barely above flickering so it doesn’t show under the door.

            He finally hears what he's been waiting for about an hour after he had shut his door, and he nearly drops his wand as he scrabbles for it on his nightstand.

            He tries to gather the strength to hate himself as he waves his wand at the wall to cast the sound amplification spell, adjusting it to be slightly louder than he had it the last time. He is immediately rewarded by the sound of a pleased hum and a body shifting against fabric.

            Percival knows that hum. It's the hum Credence makes sometimes when Percival puts a hand on his neck, or arm, or any other exposed bit of skin.

            With a groan, Percival reaches down to yank off his bottoms; wrapping his hand around his own cock, he imagines Credence spread out on the transfigured bed, slender fingers wrapped around his erection. He has been hard for what feels like hours, now. Running a thumb over his slit, Percival gasps at the jolt of arousal that shoots through him at the slick glide over the head.

            He wishes he could see... His imagination can only go so far, and even though he already feels far too close to orgasm, the possibility of seeing Credence spread out before him, naked and wanting has Percival speeding up his strokes, hips beginning to thrust shallowly into his fist.

            He knows he should pace himself—no, he _knows_ he shouldn't be listening in the first place—but Credence is making small whimpering sounds that make Percival lose what tenuous control he had left. Credence lets out a whine and a choked off "please..." which has Percival releasing a groan as he comes, hips jerking mindlessly as he spills over his hand and stomach.

            Through the haze of his own pleasure, he can hear Credence approaching his own orgasm. Percival's cock twitches when Credence lets out a muffled moan that crests in a keen. Wandlessly, Percival spells himself clean, and hesitates only a moment before cancelling the listening spell.

            He is already a weak man, he knows, but ending the spell each time means that maybe the next night he will not listen in.

            Not betray Credence's trust like this.

            He also knows that isn't enough to stop him—that every time he listens to the boy jerk off in the other room, he is making the conscious choice to do so. And as much as he tells himself to stop now, he knows he will not.

            Growling in frustration, he turns on his side and stares into the darkness of the room until he falls into a restless sleep.

———

            After the third time, he finds himself touching Credence more often.

            He has always been handsy with the boy, and Credence had always welcomed a kind hand from any of his new friends, but Percival knows this is different to how he had been treating the boy _before_.

            He lets his hand linger, feels Credence press into him at any point of contact, and disgust curls in his belly at the smiles of gratitude he receives.

            This, then, will be his penance, he decides. It must serve as some sort of absolution to touch the person he desires so much, needs so desperately, and keep it kind. Keep it friendly and supportive. Even as the lust devours him from the inside out, as long as Credence feels safe and cherished, Percival will continue to deny himself.

            He knows he is too selfish for this to be just about kindness, knows that the knowledge of how Credence's shoulders feel beneath Percival's hands will only fog his mind later, as he strokes himself off while listening in on the younger man. But he is only human. And Credence is so lovely. But he can handle it. He has at least that much self control left, Percival tells himself.

            After all, what are platonic touches of comfort when what he _longs_ to do too often verges into "grab him by his hair and kiss him senseless before swallowing him down to hear him come undone up close and personal"?

            While far from selfless, at least the contact is helping Credence. He can keep it friendly. Keep it light.

———

            Credence is edgy. Without raising his eyes from the book he has been pretending to read since he sat down, Percival can still almost see Credence vibrating with tension and restless energy. When he first noticed, he had asked the boy if he wanted to go for a walk, and Credence had scowled, snapping back that he wasn't a dog, Mr. Graves.

            He refuses to explain what is wrong, but seems loath to be alone, especially today when Percival is home during the day—the first time since he had moved in. So here they sit, each with a book in hand in armchairs opposite one another.

            Wondering if Credence is having any better luck reading than Percival is, he glances up to watch the younger man fidget.

            That would be a no, he guesses.

            Credence has been living with him for only two weeks now, after spending months with the Goldsteins, and everything had seemed to be going well, so Percival wonders if he's just had a bad day. Or—he glances down at the sofa between them—maybe he hasn't been sleeping well. His nightly schedule hasn’t changed much, although last night he and Percival had stayed up later than usual. Credence had seemed to welcome the company, so maybe there’s something else…

            Percival had offered to let Credence sleep in the study when the boy had first moved in, but hadn't pushed when Credence refused. Maybe that was the wrong move.

            Percival frowns, once again feeling guilty. He hates that Credence has been hiding how uncomfortable he must be. Hates that after three nights he hadn't even pretended to himself that he wanted the boy elsewhere; with Credence in the study, across and down the hall from his own room, shut behind another door, he wouldn't be able to listen to Credence at night.

            He is disgusted at himself for the thought, but after two weeks of living in close quarters like this, as well as nearly four months of seeing the younger man every day upon his release from the care of the healers, the constant pressure of pretending he is nothing more than a friend and maybe-mentor has gotten to him.

            He had been all but bewitched the first time he had laid eyes on Credence, and getting to know him has only made matters worse. From the timid, stuttering boy he had met nearly six months ago, Credence has already begun to blossom into a self-confident creature—he is now full of sly grins and a dry humor that took Percival's breath away the first time he realized Credence was joking with him.

            A sudden thought comes to him. "Credence?"

            Dark eyes flick up to meet his own, and Credence doesn't even bother to pretend to mark his place in the book he's holding. "Yes?"

            "Have you been sleeping alright?" A slight flush pinks the boy's cheeks, and Percival watches in wonder.

            "Yes, Mr. Graves. Thank you."

            "The... the couch has been comfortable enough?" He has Credence's full attention now, his book set on the arm of the chair as Credence studies his face in confusion.

            "Of course, Sir. Did you... Do you need it back? I can—"

            Percival jumps in before Credence can continue, "no! Nothing like that, my boy. I was just worried. You seem stressed, and I wanted to make it right. I thought… I thought maybe you had been uncomfortable…” He trails off, cringing inwardly.

            Credence blushes fully now, and ducks his head with a small smile, seemingly torn between embarrassed to have made Percival worry, and pleased that Percival had noticed anything was the matter.

            "Thank you, Mr. Graves. I promise, I have been very comfortable." Percival bites the inside of his cheek at that, trying to block out memories of just how comfortable Credence had sounded out here engaged in _certain_ activities.

            Okay, at least his bed isn't the issue.

            "How about a massage?" Percival curses himself. Where had that come from?

            Credence just blinks in confusion, studying Percival's face again, and Percival quickly forces his expression into a blithe cheerfulness he doesn’t feel. "You’re so tense, Credence, trust me, my boy, this is just what you need!"

            Credence frowns, but doesn't seem to be able to think of a reason to decline, and Percival has really stuck his foot in it this time.

            He can't go back on the suggestion now without making Credence suspicious. Just before he can open his mouth to say anything to give the boy a way out, Credence nods.

            "O-Okay, Mr. Graves. Is, uh. Is out here okay? The bed is comfortable enough, I promise."

            He's smiling slightly, which relieves Percival. This is possibly one of the stupider decisions he's made, but Credence doesn't appear uncomfortable by the turn of events, so if Percival can just get himself under control enough to not make it weird, Credence need never know how much Percival has been aching to get his hands on the boy.

            That brings a quick twinge of guilt, but he ignores it, reminding himself he's not doing this just as an excuse to touch Credence, he really hopes to help him.

            Now if Percival could just believe that, himself.

            He knows he has very little self-control where Credence is concerned. It was hard enough trying to keep his hands off of the boy _without_ the knowledge that the hum Credence makes sometimes at his touch is the same sound he makes when he first wraps a hand around his cock.

            Not that Percival should know that in the first place.

            But he does. And now it is his duty to help the boy in any way necessary, while continuing to ignore his own desires.

            He leaves Credence to transfigure the sofa and get undressed as much as he is comfortable, and heads to his room to try to gather up some control and a jar of massage oil that had been a gag gift from Queenie. He tries not to think of her expression if she found out just how he was going to use it. He knows she would be disappointed, and he can’t bear the thought.

            Or blame her.

            When he returns to the living room he catches his breath and clutches the jar tighter, moving back to duck mostly in the hallway. Credence is laid out flat on the bed, and is just now pulling the sheet over his backside. His completely naked backside.

            This is a terrible idea.

            “All set, Credence?” he calls out after a series of deep breaths, and when he receives a sound in the affirmative, he steps out and walks over to the bed.

            “Go ahead and try to relax, and if I do anything you don’t like, let me know. How about we give it an hour?”

            Credence tilts his head back to shoot a crooked smile and a quick nod that swings his curls over his eyes, and Percival feels his heart stutter. Fuck. The boy is too lovely.

            Belatedly, Percival returns the smile, and pours out a bit of oil, warming it up in his hands. He can do this.

            After the first jolt from touching Credence’s skin—so _much_ of his skin, all at once—he finds that it becomes easier to lose himself in the familiar motions.

Credence is tense still, but he sighs and tilts his head to the side to rest it against the bed. Percival smiles at the expression on Credence’s face, lips parted slightly as he breathes deeply. He hopes Credence feels half as peaceful as he looks in this moment.

            Little by little he feels Credence’s muscles go slack beneath him and, while it is still sensual, the thrill he gets that Credence trusts him this much is a mostly protective one.

            On his next breath, the shame at listening to Credence while he jerks off hits Percival right in the gut.

            Having Credence so relaxed beneath his hands, this young man who has been through so much pain and suffering, and come out of it full of so much strength and kindness… He knows he cannot listen in any longer. Maybe if he asked Credence on a date… His preference towards men had been one of the many topics Percival and Credence’s other friends had worked with him on, so Percival thinks he stands at least the hint of a chance. If only in that one area.

            Absently, he presses his thumbs into the inside of his shoulder blades, and Credence is suddenly curling up on himself, tucking his face into his arms to hide or protect it; Percival freezes. Credence is rambling apologies, and Percival absently comforts him, mind racing. What had he done?

            “Do you want to stop?” Please say no. Please let him be able to fix this… when Credence immediately shakes his head, Percival breathes out a sigh of relief.

            Besides curling in on himself, Credence hasn’t made any moves to pull away from Percival, so he keeps his hands moving over Credence’s skin. Gently moving over the skin, Percival keeps his movements steady and calming.

            “Credence, if I did something to hurt you, I need to…” Percival sighs, not sure how to continue, again he presses absently into Credence’s shoulder blades, trying to work out some of the tension.

            Credence… _squeaks_.

            Oh. _Oh._ He doesn’t know that exact sound, but he can guess, now, what caused the negative reaction a moment earlier.

            “That’s perfectly natural. A totally natural reaction; you can’t control it, Credence.” He knows he is now the one verging on rambling, but he presses his thumbs harder against the tense muscles. He can’t help himself.

            It seems to work, though, as Credence relaxes his arms, moving them back to his sides. Percival bites his lip, cock twitching at the thought of Credence getting aroused just from a massage.

            “I don’t think I want to, Mr. Graves.” Credence is speaking, and Percival is momentarily confused. Then the younger man thrusts his hips against the bed, and moans.

            Percival freezes, biting his lip harder. He can’t mean… but then Credence arches between his hands and the bed with a whimper, and Percival _can’t breathe_. He must be mistaken. Somehow. Credence can’t really know what he’s doing right now… Percival starts to remove his hands, trying to comfort Credence, while also needing to be alone _now_.

            Credence growls and begs Percival to keep touching him. That growl is another noise Percival has never heard, and he presses his palms back down into the warm skin beneath him, relishing the sigh of pleasure that brings.

            “What do you want?” Credence is asking him, and Percival doesn’t even think before he replies. It’s not a difficult question.

            “I want to keep touching you.” Credence’s skin is slick with the oil, and Percival is nearly mindless with desire. He’s so hard. His brain seems to have shut off, and he continues.  "I want to hear more of those noises you're making. I want to hear the noises you make when you think I'm asleep, when you're alone and touching yourself."

            Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that. But Credence moans and shivers, and Percival grows bold.

            Moving his hand down, not even with the pretense of a massage, just enjoying the feel of Credence’s skin, Percival makes it to the line of the sheet, and Credence is grinding down into the bed, pressing back up against Percival’s hands when he thrusts back up.

            All or nothing, now.

            Percival bends down so he can almost press his lips against Credence’s ear, lets his lips brush once over the sensitive flesh, "I want to hear you make those noises for me. I want you to  _be mine_." Credence whines as he comes, hips bucking erratically. 

            If Percival had thought he was mindless before, he understands the real meaning now—running his hands everywhere over Credence’s skin, whispering pleas and praises tangled together in a voice he barely recognizes as his own. He needs _more_ , although this is already more than he had truly let himself hope for.

            Percival sucks in a breath when Credence starts speaking, shifting and arching beneath his still-wandering hands like a contented cat.

            “I believe we agreed on an hour-long massage. Percival.” Percival groans at finally hearing his name from those lips. _Credence_ wants more, and he wants more _with Percival_.

            He brushes the sheet away from Credence’s hips and trails his fingers over the newly exposed skin. Boldly, he slides over Credence’s ass and presses the tip of one finger into Credence’s hole experimentally before withdrawing it again. Credence whines, and Percival knows he is lost.

            “For you, sweetheart, I’ve got all night.” Still leaning over him, Percival presses a kiss to the back of Credence’s neck, breathing him in as he runs his hands in a slick slide down Credence’s spine. Credence twitches, and Percival grins.

            He has all night, _indeed._

            Curious, Percival moves his hands back down to Credence’s ass, stroking between his cheeks, enjoying the whine Credence makes at the sensations. “Is this okay?” Credence whines again and presses his ass up into Percival’s hands, and Percival chuckles.

            “What about this?” Again he presses just the tip of a finger in and Credence twitches.

            “ _Percival._ ” He slips the finger in further, moaning at the tight heat, grinding himself against the bed. Credence turns his head to look at Percival, then, and his eyes are blown with lust. “Percival, please.”

            He has to shut his eyes against the sight, shifting his hips back from the bed. “Credence, fuck, baby. What do you want?” He slides his finger in deeper, feeling as Credence tries to relax to let it in.

            “Want you to f- want you to fuck me. Please.”

            “ _Shit, Credence_.” Percival is coming, then, untouched, in his pants, groaning long and low. He struggles to regain his ability to breathe normally as he nearly sags onto the bed.

            But then he is blessedly naked at a murmured word by Credence, being pulled down onto the bed with an armful of hot, still slick with oil Credence. Percival clings to Credence, dragging him in for a kiss as the younger man wraps himself around Percival.

            He pauses just before their lips make contact, just to look, and Credence stares right back.

            Credence’s lips are slightly swollen and red from where he had been biting them, and even as he watches, Credence’s tongue flicks out over them, wetting them. Percival huffs out a breath and closes the distance, pressing their lips together _finally_. Credence moans when Percival licks over his bottom lip, squirming against him when Percival slips his tongue in.

            He is lost in kissing Credence for a long time. They only surface for air—panting and desperate to return to the kissing—until Percival moves away enough to press kisses and nips down Credence’s neck.

            The boy arches against him with a moan, and Percival feels the hot press of his renewed cock against his skin. When he glances down, Percival can’t hold back the gasp. “Fuck, sweetheart. I need that in me.”

            Credence bucks against him and stares, wide-eyed. “You want… You want me to… you?”

            Percival laughs, “I do. Is that something you’d like, too?” Credence nods emphatically. “Next time, I’ll fuck you, baby, but Mercy Lewis, I need that thick cock in me, first. Who knew you were hiding all of that…” Credence moans, cheeks flushed red with lust and embarrassment, and Percival kisses him again, swiftly, before he moves to straddle Credence.

            Percival rubs his hands over Credence’s chest, massaging at the warm skin, briefly running his thumbs over Credence’s nipples; he thrills at the jolt that brings, but settles for pressing a brief kiss over one pebbled nipple for the moment.

            He is too impatient to feel Credence inside him.

            “Ready, sweetheart?” He waves a hand and feels his hole loosen and slick up, he looks questioningly at Credence, grinning when he just nods in confusion. Queenie must not have covered the many and varied uses of magic in the bedroom. Good. Percival can’t wait to be the one to introduce him to all of those.

            Maintaining eye contact, Percival slides himself down onto Credence’s cock.

            Credence cries out sharply, eyes shutting tight in shock and pleasure as Percival takes his entire length in one stroke. Wincing slightly at the stretch, Percival focuses on the noises from Credence, the sight of him flushed and needy beneath him.

            Percival gives them both a moment to adjust, and Credence finds his voice finally, opening his eyes to stare hazily up at the older man. “Fu- Percy, God. You’re so _tight_ I… Can you… I need. Please?”

            Percival leans down to kiss him and they both groan at the shift in angle. “Anything, baby. I meant it, anything you want.” He kisses down Credence’s neck, biting marks into the pale flesh as Credence keens and bucks up into him. “Shit, baby, just like that sweetheart. Do you want me to ride you,” he slowly lifts up and sinks back down on Credence’s cock, cherishing the _mewl_ from Credence that motion brings, “or—“

            Credence cuts him off, running a hand down Percival’s arm to grip at his wrist. “Ri– ride me, please. And… can you…” He’s blushing furiously, and Percival presses kisses over his face, nuzzling noses with him as Credence tries to find the words he wants. “I want to watch you jer– watch you touch yourself while you ride me. Please.”

            Forgetting how to breathe again, Percival slowly rises, letting Credence move his hand to wrap around his own cock. “As you wish.” He strokes once over his cock and hums in pleasure. “Anything for you, baby.” He’s panting, feeling the shivers spreading over Credence’s skin as he speaks, “You feel so good in me. It’s been… it’s been years, but when I saw your cock, I needed it.”

            Shifting as much as he can, Credence whines and stares up at Percival, moving his hands to grip at the older man’s hips, speechless, eyes blown and mouth panting open for breath.

            Percival begins to move again, feeling the grip of Credence’s fingers.

            “I listened to you, baby. Listened to you when you jerked off. Wanted to be out here, watching you, but had to settle for fucking my hand in my own room, just listening.”

            Credence cries out, hips thrusting up on Percival’s downward slide, and Percival knows his voice is more growl than anything, but he can’t stop now. He wants to tell Credence about every time he thought of him while masturbating, every time he used magic to listen in while the boy got off. Wishing it had been his hand. His mouth.

            And then Percival moves again, and Credence’s cock hits his prostate. Mouth dropping open, Percival trembles as he keeps that angle going for as long as he can stand. He is already too close, though, and distantly he hears himself babbling out praises, and Credence answering in pleas and moans.

            Percival speeds up.

            Credence is whining constantly, little broken sounds that Percival recognizes, but that now surround him, and he rubs his thumb over the slick tip of his cock, desperate. “I wanted to be there, baby, I wanted to be the one— _fuck_ —be the one making you come. God, sweetheart, you look amazing. You’re so perfect. I–“ Percival gasps, hand and hips losing rhythm as he feels his orgasm approaching. “Come for me. Credence, darling, come for me!”

            Head thrown back in ecstasy, Credence shouts when he comes, pumping deep inside Percival, and Percival lets out his own cry as he feels the warmth fill him, spilling cum onto Credence’s chest and stomach. The orgasm hits him like a wave, nearly too much this soon after his last one, and he whimpers as Credence twitches inside him every time his body squeezes tight.

            Regretfully, Percival pulls up from Credence as their aftershocks fade, letting his spent cock slip out, feeling the cum slip out of his stretched opening.

            He flops down next to Credence, pulling him close, and Credence manages to throw a leg over one of Percival’s before settling. They lay there panting, basking in pleasure until Credence shifts closer and presses his lips to Percival’s. Percival wraps an arm firmly around his shoulders, keeping him close.

          Credence leans up to whisper in his ear, “I thought of you, you know. When I… when I self-completed. I wanted it to be you, too.”

            Percival groans and pulls him in tighter. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this ended up being _almost_ five times as long as the original little ficlet. And it still ends more abruptly than people probably like hahaha. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Comments make me feel like I'm not _completely_ wasting my life ;D
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://chryselephantinechaos.tumblr.com)


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